idealism

June 19, 2010

How to explain the behavior of oil in the ocean, brought to you by Target.

I think decorations like this in a fast food restaurant are supposed to fill patrons with assurance that they have made a wise nutritional decision, thereby assuring return visits. Instead, it fills me with skepticism, wondering why they have to surround me with "good for you" messages, suspicious that it's yet another deployment of psychological trickery in order to build business.

May 06, 2010

Something sweet left on my pillow by Reese. (Time to retire the owls, they're the winter bedding.)

New sign in the foyer, which reads "Be Nice or Leave". Part of my I don't have to invite yucky people with their yucky energy into my home campaign. Which, by the way, needs a different name because that one has one hell of an unmanageable acronym.

March 03, 2010

Ruby, worn out at the end of a long Pennies in Protest organizational meeting, accuses her mother of being "mean to Haiti" after her 9,000,000th petition for donations to her collection is denied (many of the previous petitions were responded to generously).

I am WAY far behind on posts - despite whatever the date header up there says, it is actually March 13th and I have just updated blog entries as far back as Feb 14th, and still have everything after this one to go. The last week's worth of activism included state education budget protests, a strongly-but-kindly worded letter to delegate Bob Marshall, and then an organized counterprotest effort against Westboro Baptist Church.

You can read about the incredible Pennies in Protest community effort here:

I am SO AMAZINGLY GRATEFUL to the THOUSANDS of people - literally, thousands - who supported this in one way or another. Parents talked to their kids about hatred, kindness, and tolerance. Friends posted links and talked PiP up to other friends. Donations poured in beyond our wildest dreams. We thought this would be a small collection among a few friends. Hey, maybe if we were really lucky, a few other people would join and - haha - maybe we could reach $1K, wouldn't that be cool? We were not at all prepared for 2,000+ Facebook followers, buzz all over Twitter and Richmond, media attention extending outside Virginia, and, get this: over $14,000 in contributions made either directly to our site, handed to us in person, or donated to local organizations on behalf of PiP.

What is far, far better than that (although the money will do a lot of good in Richmond!) is that we stood up to bullies. Did the bullies like the attention? You betcha. I don't care. I'm not interested in the glee of hateful people. I do care about the hundreds of people who stood shoulder to shoulder with our local Jewish and LGBTQ communities. I care about the notes we received from them about Rabbis watching the Facebook numbers growing, and about the way people whose cultural predecessors and/or relatives were slaughtered in the Holocaust felt love and support from their community in the face of extreme prejudice. I care about the huge crowd of happy faces at VCU, proud of their own sexuality, whatever it may be. I care about the teenagers at Hermitage High School who saw that although four people showed up to tell them they're going to burn in hell,

Four friends, social media, five days. Nobody can ever tell me that one person can't make a difference. Every single person who participated in this outpouring of kindness is one person who knew another single person. I don't consider myself to be terribly popular or well-connected, but look how this thing spread outward from us, and how eager people are to DO SOMETHING! Richmond and friends of Richmond, you are wonderful.

..but somebody asked me about the personal side of things, how this whole thing got started. For me, it started from the feeling that I haven't been taking enough interest in social activism. I frequently disagree with something but apathy or low energy or poor organization or procrastination prevent me from writing a letter, attending a protest, volunteering for worthy organizations, etc. I believe in nonviolence, which means more than simply physical nonviolence. I believe in standing up for what is morally right, and my own moral code tells me that one of the most basic aspects of being a good person is defending the rights of other people - their bodily integrity, their autonomy, and also engaging in respectful discourse rather than banning expression or engaging in activities based in intolerance and ignorance.

I have never, that I can remember, participated in a protest rally until the one last week at the General Assembly Building. Economic times are tough, but state legislators are protecting their corporate buddies and slashing funding for the arts and education. I had hired a sitter for some alone time during Dan's work weekend, and decided to use that time to attend the rally. It felt like the responsible choice and I am really proud to have added one more person to that effort.

Riding that sense of responsibility and thinking about what I want to model for my children, I felt the need to do something when in one week, our governor wiped sexual orientation from an executive order listing factors that may not be used to discriminate against people in the workplace, and then the crazy Westboro Baptist Church was about to roll into town. I am ANGRY that anybody, anywhere would think that a person is less than fully human and fully deserving of respect and protection under the law for something as idiotic as who they're attracted to. It is equally enraging to me that religion is used to discriminate both for and against people. Religious language should not be included in the law (as it often is in Virginia) and religious belief should not result in a person being persecuted (as it does for WBC). This is INSANE, it's inhumane, and it would be irresponsible for me to sit at home and think dark thoughts about right-wing legislators and religious nut jobs.

On Thursday night, after learning of the planned WBC visit, three of my friends and I found ourselves on Facebook and Twitter at the same time, discussing back and forth how heartsick their message of hatred caused us to feel and our need to react in a positive, community-building way. We disagreed on what was best - absurdist counterprotest signs or love messages? Personal preference or behind-the-scenes work? Address the WBC picketers or address the rest of the community? Raise money? Acts of kindness around the community? We agreed that sitting on our thumbs was not an option. A friend of Sarah's linked her to an article about his synagogue in Manhattan and the pledge drive they ran in response to a WBC protest there. Genius. Maybe we could do something on a smaller scale? On Friday morning, Sarah made a site and Facebook page, Sara named our fledgling group, Patience and I got to work on the social media blitz. Sarah works in PR and has the knowledge and the resources to go with it, and drafted a press release and sent it to something like 3,000 media outlets. We contacted organizers of direct protests, we talked to the organizations being picketed.

By Friday night we had already raised over $1,000. Saturday and Sunday were a blur of phone calls, tweets, emails, and a meeting at my house. The numbers hit a lull on Sunday morning but then kept climbing steadily. Monday came. The press started calling. Donations were pouring in. Sarah and I did local news interviews and she interviewed with radio stations here and in Los Angeles. The word was spreading, and the coolest thing was how much ownership everybody was feeling! The word "we" was everywhere, people felt so empowered to be able to take their sense of revulsion at what the WBC was doing and turn it into support for their community. Everybody was watching the numbers, talking about Tuesday. It was AMAZING.

Tuesday hit hard, and I still can't really put it all into words, except this: the WBC people disgust me but gave me a lot of insight into their particular kind of fundamentalism and also strengthened my resolve to raise compassionate children. And the strength of my local community is something beautiful to see. I watched a man who survived the holocaust stride purposefully up to the picketers and invite them into his museum to see a picture of him lined up for selection for execution. I heard him respond with conviction and patience to their taunts and their praise of history's genocidal leaders. He and the people surrounding him that day give me hope. The out-and-proud kids at VCU and at Hermitage give me hope as well. NOTHING like this was happening two decades ago when I was their age. Today we stand up to the WBC. Tomorrow we stand up to the more insidious everyday bullies like Governor McDonnell and Ken Cuccinelli. I hope Richmond will say YES to the challenge in this RTD editorial. I know we have it in us.

This is long and rambly and I'm clearly still processing (keep in mind it's back-dated, I'm writing on March 13th). If you came along with us on this journey, I'd love to hear what you're thinking and feeling, and how you're working for justice in your own community.

April 08, 2009

So, almost a year ago, the boys and I were hanging out at Curly Twirly Slide Park and up rides Corinna and Andres on their bikes, with Lola in a bike trailer. Right then, I knew I couldn't complain about the suburbs any more. I had to DO IT. I had to move closer to the city (I was thinking Tuckahoe). I had to live somewhere that I loved, somewhere close enough to a park to bike or walk. I had to stop talking, and start looking, and DO IT.

And you know what? I did. And it rocks every bit as hard as it would. 100% realistic expectations, right down to the only things I miss being our old kitchen and our neighbors, and everything else far, far outweighing those two small cons.

The winter was long and we didn't have a chance to visit the park - I think Dan drove the kids there once, but I knew that the first time I went there post-move, it would have to be sans fossil fuels to come full circle to that day with Corinna at the park.
Today, I loaded Xander and Reese into the stroller, and Griff hopped on his bike, and we went. It takes about 20 minutes to walk there. We live 20 minutes from Curly Twirly Slide Park! Can you believe it?

Along the way, we met a baby squirrel that seemed a little too young to be out of the nest. It didn't have a whole lot of fear of humans yet and let me get close, then when I was trying to herd it away from the curb, it ran into the road and just sat there, in the middle of Patterson Avenue. We spotted a squirrel sibling next to a telephone pole, also rather close to the road. I couldn't get it to move, so I had to scoop it up with Griff's sweatshirt. I gathered up its sibling and put them both in some flower beds, hoping that they'd find their mother if necessary and NOT find their way back into the street.

It was an amazing day for color, with a grey sky, the bright yellows and blues of the playground, and the vibrant redbuds in full bloom. The gorgeous little girl below is Gabriella, my friend Gina's daughter, and that's Xander in the padawan get-up, handling his light saber improperly.

March 06, 2009

I have a book group on March 15th, and despite the fact that I adore the book and have been working on it in 1-2 sentence snatches for the last two or more attention-span-deprived years, I'm a little concerned that I won't be done in time. So here I am, with a rather tasty glass of wine and a bit of dark chocolate "brownie puddle" left over from our dinner earlier tonight with Adam & Sarah & co., soaking in Naomi Aldort in the quiet of a house full of sleeping people.

Quote:

Loving a child does not guarantee that he will experience himself as being loved.

True, and frightening.

So, tonight I was sitting on the floor, talking to Sarah, and we touched on how we probably have different core philosophies when it comes to parenting, and I said that I think, maybe, that core philosophy doesn't matter. Ok, I don't entirely mean that, I do think it matters to some extent, and I don't think a philosophy based on a parent totally dominating a child is a terribly good thing. But I think a lot of what parents *do* on a day to day basis, whether or not their kid was totally validated all the time or whether or not their kid was ever spanked or whether or not the parent ever totally lost their shit (to borrow a phrase from Sarah)...I don't think that stuff necessarily matters, if at the end of it all, the kid has experienced himself or herself as being loved. In my own life, being loved means a person accepting that my own perception of my own experiences is valid. Sometimes a person may have good intent, but if that is not my perception, how much does the intent matter? I suspect that intent only matters if the person with the intent is willing to understand, accept, own that what they intended may not have been what happened. I guess what I'm getting at is responsibility. No matter what we intend, we are responsible for the outcome of our actions.

In my life as a parent, I hope that I will own an appropriate amount of responsibility for my children's experiences. I hope that I am able to let them know what my intent was and listen to them and understand when my actions did not have the desired effect - whether because I erred, or because my children are not myself and will not always share the same view on what is necessary and good for them, and do not necessarily have the same needs and preferences.

I am hoping that even though I fall short of my ideals, and even though my very ideals may not be what my actual children turn out to need, that I will hear them. Really hear them and understand them. I hope that I have the humility for that, whenever it is necessary. I know it would mean a lot to me as a child, and I hope that I can do it as a parent.

I suspect that this is far more important than adhering to any one particular philosophy or playbook. Although isn't that a philosophy in itself?

March 03, 2009

February 28, 2009

don't get bogged down in how something bad might happen, or who doesn't approve of the thing you want to do. don't listen to the fear, or the little voices in your head telling you a million and one reasons not to do the thing that you really, truly, deeply want to do.

and do it.

it feels really, really good to be living the things you've talked about, rather than talking about them and complaining about the things you're doing instead of them. it is amazing to realize that you're not carrying the baggage of unfulfilled wishes and dislike of your present circumstance. it is fantastic to say no to things you don't want to do, and to go for the things you do want to do.

life is way too short to be doing anything you don't actually have to do or want to do, and when it gets down to it, the list of what you actually have to do is pretty short.

start the project, take the class, make the plan, meet the people, drop the sense of duty to people who mistreat you, embrace who you really are, do it your way, and evict those silly little voices. they don't know what they're talking about.

Recently, a mother was ostracized and threatened with arrest for breastfeeding at a Denny's restaurant in Asheville, NC. Disciminatory events surrounding nursing in public (NIP) like this one are often followed by action from activists, which leads to many discussions between pro- and anti-NIP persons, including terms such as decency, courtesy, respect, obscenity, and discretion.
This frosts my cookies, to put it mildly. The anti-NIP faction inevitably harumphs and voices their offense at the so-called disrespect shown by breastfeeding mothers. They "shouldn't have to see that", it's "disgusting", and the mother should take herself to the bathroom or travel with a bottle. Comparisons to passing gas or public urination generally follow. These comments reveal both ignorance of and unfamiliarity with the physical and emotional realities of parenting a breastfed infant, as well as the ingrained sense of shame with which most of us have been taught to view the human body. There is nothing indecent about a mother feeding her infant, no matter how she chooses to do it. There is nothing obscene about the nurturing functions of the body. There is nothing disrespectful in the act of a mother meeting her child's needs.

Unfortunately, as lactivists discuss these situations among themselves and in public spaces, they often drift into agreement with the anti-NIP faction. They start to question exactly how much breast the ostracized mother was exposing, and champion the privacy with which it is possible to nurse a child. This leads to endless sidebar conversation about exactly how a mother can go about preventing herself from showing skin, how some mothers "go too far", how some are, perhaps,
trying to cause a scene in order to piss off the puritans as an exhibitionist taunt or as a misguided bit of activism.

Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come to stop demonizing women for showing skin, to get over ourselves and our hangups about the interconnection between sexuality and motherhood, to refocus on what is important: we're mammals. We lactate. Our children need to be nurtured.

To that end, when a recent thread on the Richmond-area Natural and Attached Parenting (NAP) board started veering into discussion about being "discreet," I could take it no longer, and posted the following plea. My friend Jen has since reposted it to the FirstRight advisory committee and on the MotheringDotCommune breastfeeding boards (the MDC link contains her post and the responses), so I thought perhaps the original author should share it on her own space, as well. I am pairing this post with several photos of myself nursing my children, some of which have not been posted here before.

*********************************************************

[from NAP message board post, 2/19/09]

It seems like whenever there is a discussion about breastfeeding in
public, eventually things get down to this: somebody is offended by the
sight of a breast, and they think the owner of the breast should
respect their feelings by not baring their breast. Then the D word
comes out: discreet. And it's almost always a breastfeeder who uses it
first: *I'm* discreet, *I* don't condone those titty-flashing drama
queens with their nipply agendas! It can be done modestly! Look at me,
I'm a breastfeeder, I don't let it all hang out!

I've done it,
too, and it galls me. We're trying to gently convince the offended
person that their big bad fear of total XXX boobage doesn't reflect
reality. We're trying to reassure them that really, most breastfeeders
don't show that much breast, so cool it on the anti-indecent exposure
campaign!

Problem is, we're shooting ourselves in the foot. By
using the big D, or dancing around it in any way by trying to prove how
*modest* we are, by talking about how the baby covers up the breasts,
reassuring them that nothing really shows and that they've probably
seen a million cases of NIP and never noticed it...we're allowing them
to define modesty and discretion. We're playing their game and agreeing
with them that breasts should not be seen. We're selling out our fellow
breastfeeders - the ones who are unhampered by silly social
conditioning and don't feel self-conscious popping a breast over the
neck of a tank top, or who just can't hide those 38Gs, or who
inadvertently get exposed by a curious 8 month old taking a look
around. It's even worse when the pro-NIP side starts to agree with the
"just be prepared with a bottle or go to the bathroom!" side by
speculating about the motives of the woman in the news story du jour.
We weren't there, we aren't her. Assuming that she was trying to stir
up a ruckus is blaming the victim.

So, I beg of you, can we
please drop the discretion language and stand up for our fellow nursing
mamas, no matter how they get the milk into their baby's mouths? (I'm
not pointing any fingers, just asking if you'll join me in watching
what we say.) When we use it, we allow the anti-NIP people to put us on
the defensive and define the terms of the debate. Our bottom line
should be this: babies have a right to food and comfort when and where
they need it. How much of the breast is bared in the process should
matter to no one but its owner. So let's stop talking about how
discreet we are, ok?

*********************************************************

[The following was taken from my response to a couple of people who felt like it's important to use the word "discreet" when talking to new mothers worried about NIP, in order to reassure them and encourage them to nurse.]

I think there are different contexts at work here. I'm
talking about defending a baby's right to NIP, a civil-rights issue. I
still don't want to use the word "discreet" or other words like it when
talking to new mothers, but I don't mind sharing information with them
on ways they can nurse comfortably. To me, helping a mother to find a
way of nursing that's comfortable to her is different from defending a
woman tossed out of Denny's to a guy who insists that nursing should
never happen in a public place, period.

What I would do if trying to reassure a new mom:- echo her concerns - it's important that she feel validated. It's common to feel shy/worried about NIP! - share my own experiences as a mom who started out using a blanket to cover and soon became comfortable going without a cover-
depending on the venue (class? personal friend?) I might share one or
more nursing accessories or tips that might meet her particular
need/concern

I still would not say "it's possible to nurse
discreetly" because it reinforces the idea that skin showing is
indiscreet and therefore wrong/inappropriate. One thing being
"discreet" implies another thing that is not. I'd emphasize the
importance of finding a way that feels comfortable while asserting that
what is comfortable should be THEIR decision.

I'm not at all,
EVER, saying that women *should* bare their entire breast...I just
think that the language we use can sometimes inadvertently reinforce
negative social norms. It's worth mentioning here that I prefer for my
midriff to stay covered if possible, to show minimal breast, and that
I've tried some of the drop-cup tanks and popping over the top of a
blouse, and felt very exposed! BUT I wholeheartedly support any other
mother who feels comfortable baring more than I do.

February 01, 2009

“Either once only, or every day. If you do something once
it’s exciting, and if you do it every day it’s exciting. But if you do
it, say, twice or just almost every day, it’s not good any more.” - Andy Warhol

“Anything one does every day is important and imposing and anywhere one lives is interesting and beautiful.” - Gertrude Stein

January 06, 2009

Ever heard of No Impact Man? I had forgotten about him until today when my friend Carolina linked to him on Facebook. Rather than explain who this guy is, I'll just cut and paste the subtitle for his blog:

A Guilty Liberal Finally Snaps, Swears Off Plastic, Goes Organic,
Becomes A Bicycle Nazi, Turns Off His Power, Composts His Poop and,
While Living In New York City, Generally Turns Into a Tree-Hugging
Lunatic Who Tries to Save the Polar Bears and The Rest of the Planet
from Environmental Catastrophe While Dragging His Baby Daughter and
Prada-Wearing, Four Seasons-Loving Wife Along for the Ride

Ye savvy? I think he's relaxed his lifestyle restrictions, but he's still pretty fringe, and therefore a great source of ideas for all things greener-than-thou.

Ok, so today Carolina, who is one of my crunchy, homebirthing, sustainable-living, super-consciously-living, idealistic Richmond peeps, linked to this post about the Japanese norm of not heating one's home during the winter.

Now, just this morning, I had been musing over my family's social abnormality while packing a lunch for Griff. Griff's friends at school who have bag lunches get things like Jell-O packs and Capri Sun juice pouches and Fruit by the Foot. I have this bizarre notion that lunches should be a) nutritious, b) not filled with artificial ingredients, and c) in reusable packaging. So those items pretty much triple-fail, you know? After much debate, we agreed as a family that on Fridays, I'll put a juice box (real juice, not Kool-Aid) in his lunch. And after he begged me all last week for a juice box (they're in the basement fridge, taunting him) and even told me how he would make something out of the package so it wouldn't be wasted, I'm feeling so frustrated that something as simple as wanting to reduce waste and eat good food makes me a freak, and makes him an outsider.

(Defensive aside: Griff is NOT deprived of the joy of fun goodies.
For example, he got fresh spritz cookies in yesterday's lunch and
cupcakes the whole week of Xander's birthday, and there's no lack of
other treats here.)

Right, so this morning, I was thinking about all that while washing grapes and stuff. My head's a busy place. And then later I saw C's link and read the article, and while the idea of not heating my house chills me just to think of it (and today was in the 30s and rainy and gray, brrr), it's provocative. Even more compelling: the idea of a culture in which this is the norm (according to the guest-blogger). And then I stopped dead at this:

We're not alone. Part of what makes this situation bearable is that
everyone does it. We're not making some sacrifice that everyone else
forgoes. I have no one nearby to envy.

How exactly, perfectly, did he just say the thing that I feel in my heart every day? Well, actually, what I'm feeling is the opposite of this, which would be something like this: I feel alone. Part of what makes it hard to maintain my idealism is that virtually nobody does it. I'm making sacrifices that everybody else forgoes. I - and my child - have so many people around us who do things differently, and sometimes we envy them. We want their shiny foil Capri Sun packages filled with colorful sweet fluid (I cannot really call it juice). We want to fit in, and we are torn between doing what everybody else does, and doing what is consistent with our values.

That sounds somewhat martyrish, although it's not intended to be so. It's just hard, and lonely, when your carefully, thoughfully chosen experience is so very different from the experiences that most of the people you meet choose for themselves. It's hard in our culture, to choose to birth without drugs and/or outside of a hospital, to be a champion of reusable products (I've totally failed at the moment on cloth diapering), to want to relate to children in a non-authoritarian manner, to aim for a constant reduction in one's consumerist behaviors, et cetera. These are not popular choices. Many of the things I do or want to do mark me as an alien, somebody to whom others cannot relate, somebody on the fringe.

The thing is, there is also strength to be found in that solitude, the Japanese concept of "Gaman".

It means "endure," or "tolerate" but
there's more to it than that. It ascribes value to enduring something
difficult. To Gaman is a principle, its a virtue. It's a cross between
hanging in there and fighting the good fight...Sometimes enduring hardship as a virtue when the situation could just
as easily be made more comfortable seems nuts. But as a cultural value,
doing your best and enduring hardship is refreshing.

This reminds me of the practice of hardening steel in fire. And as for cultural values? We are piecing together our own culture of like-minded siblings and friends. We encourage each other when being on the fringe feels hard. We inspire each other to pursue our beliefs to their logical conclusions, even if it means some sacrifice. We sit around the kotatsu with them, and then we head out into the cold.

January 02, 2009

From time to time I consider keeping a running list of things for which I'm thankful, although I never settle on a format (journal? blog page? meme-style?), so it usually gets done as a one-off or goes entirely undone. I did have a list on an ancient version of my web page titled Happy Thoughts, inspired by the Barbara Ann Kipfer book which I purchased on my 16th birthday (at a Hallmark store, with Valerie), and which shall forever be a favorite, if only for the fact that "the position of your head as you bite into a taco" is one of her happy thoughts. I added my own inside the cover and in the margins of the now-battered book, and kept the web list for a year or two before that version of the site passed into obsolescence.

As luck would have it, I was considering the idea again yesterday, and then some stream-of-consciousness browsing today (while nursing Xan down for a nap) led me to this guy's blog, where he has proposed a 365-day practice of gratitude: list 5 things a day for a year, starting any day you like.

I'll start today. I noticed that "Grace in Small Things" is GIST, which is kindof nifty (can't tell if Schmutzie intended that), so I'll title my posts thusly and create a gist category.

December 31, 2008

In January 2007 I wrote an entry on MySpace with the same subject heading as this post. The title was taken from my sloganizer message at that moment, which seemed a fitting phrase for setting out my goals for the new year and beyond. From that post:

I thought
the time was ripe for posting my resolutions-in-progress. I hestitate
to call them resolutions because the term seems to trite and this means
more to me this year than just the usual "go to the gym three times a
week!" promises we make to ourselves (although, I admit, there is one
weight-related item on the list).

These
are a collection of ideas I've had in my head lately about the way I
want to approach my life. Some represent major change, some are a
continuation of things I already try to do. The list is a work in
progress.

I then laid out my mission statement for self-improvement, which was organized into items related to tending myself, tending my family, tending my home, and tending the world beyond my doorstep. I intended to revisit them and evaluate their status periodically and to rewrite them the following January; I accomplished the former but not the latter.

This year I am cutting and pasting that mission statement and will attach it to this blog as a page (also linked in the sidebar). I'm posting it here not for accountability purposes - in fact, it annoys me when people quiz me on personal-project status, so please don't - but in order to put ideas out there. Sometimes seeing other people's goals inspires me, and something I add there might give you an idea or two. Or it might prompt you to comment with your own goals, which I might want to add to my own. You might have an idea that can help meet a goal; two years ago Lynz suggested a particular kind of reusable bag that I ended up purchasing and now use all the time (I used them this morning!). I like it when sharing something starts a discussion, whether trivial or deep.

So, if you want to read them, they're over there, and hopefully I'll remember to reassess now and then. I may pull a few out as post topics in the near future, too, and hope you'll chime in with your thoughts.